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though I ve accomplished a whole hell of a lot since then. He opened the fridge and poked around in
the fruit crisper drawer. Jesus.
She peered over and couldn t stop a laugh from escaping. What in God s name would possess
them to put condoms in there?
I can t decide if they thought we were actually going to have enough sex to justify what is
obviously a Costco-sized box of condoms, or if they re just fucking with us. He pulled the condom
packet out of the fridge and tossed it onto the counter farthest from her.
It may very well be a combination of both.
Good point. He pulled out a carton of berries and milk. As to why I went with the Air Force,
specifically, I picked the PJs because my uncle was one.
She tilted her head to the side. PJs? Is that the abbreviation for pararescuer?
Yeah. I used to beg him to tell me stories about the people he d rescued. He paused to look at
her. Something he said always stuck with me it s a whole lot harder to save a man s life than it is
to pull a trigger and end it. Though apparently my dad didn t get that memo.
Hearing his reasons sent a pang through her, a pang that only got worse when she realized what the
last comment must mean. She couldn t bring herself to ask if his dad had taken a gun to himself. Ryan
hadn t had a perfect upbringing any more than she had. A sense of kinship welled up inside her,
snuffing out the last smidgen of irritation from the egg incident. Your dad...
He killed himself a few years after I graduated. He turned away. I ve never regretted leaving,
even considering that, because joining the PJs was the best thing to ever happened to me.
You re a hero. More so than any man in her romance novels because he was real.
I serve my country, same as any other soldier.
Ryan took a package of brown sugar out of the cupboard and set it next to the stuff in front of her.
What about you? How did you end up in sleepy Wellingford? You re from California, right?
Though she didn t particularly want to talk about herself, this seemed a safe enough subject. I
researched small towns with openings or soon-to-be openings within their library on the East
Coast, and Wellingford was the top of that list. I didn t expect Mrs. Cleaver to retire quite so quickly,
but things just sort of worked out.
It has to be hard to live so far away from your family.
She stared at her nails. I don t have any.
He must have picked up on her reluctance to go deeper into the subject, because he didn t push the
issue. So you did the equivalent of throwing a dart at one end of the map, then up and moved? That s
pretty spontaneous.
If he had any idea what she would have done to get out of Los Angeles, he wouldn t have thought
so. Even though she knew it wasn t the city s fault her parents died in that car crash, she couldn t help
hating it. Wellingford was something fresh and new and untainted by her past. I suppose, though it
didn t feel like that at the time. She took the offered bowl of oatmeal and dosed it with milk and
brown sugar. The first bite nearly made her eyes roll back in her head. Every time I ve tried to make
oatmeal from scratch, I always end up with mush. This is so much better than mush.
He laughed. Practice and self-preservation.
Thank you. Thank you for cooking for me. Thank you for sharing a little bit of your past.
Thank you for listening to a sliver of mine and not pressing for more.
The peace between them lasted the rest of the fifteen minutes it took for them to eat the entire pot of
oatmeal. For all the anxiety still swirling inside of her, the silence was& comfortable. Maybe they d
reached some sort of common ground?
Ryan stood and reached for her bowl.
Bri held on when he tried to pull away. What are you doing?
Ryan gave it another yank, a familiar frown settling over his face. The dishes.
Absolutely not. You cooked. I can do the dishes.
It s fine. I ll take care of them. He tugged on the bowl.
Apparently now that sharing time was over, he was back to making her feel completely inadequate.
She tugged back harder, not even sure why she was bothering. She hated the dishes. They were one of
those necessary evils that marrying a billionaire reformed playboy would solve. Not that she d know
what to do with one if she met him. I said I d do the dishes, and I will.
You re just arguing to argue. Again. Knock it off.
You knock it off.
Just let it go, Bri. With your luck, you ll probably find a knife to cut yourself on.
She was so surprised, she let go of the bowl. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Considering how well things went this morning, I believe it s pretty self-explanatory.
When she d fantasized about meeting her very own alpha male, she hadn t stopped to consider that
they were giant pains in the backside. Not that Ryan was hers, but the same principle applied. The
women in her books never seemed to have problems like the ones she kept coming across. I m not
some damsel in distress who needs to be saved.
He gave her a look like she was stupid. I didn t say that. You re a grown-up. I m sure you manage
to get dressed each morning, pay your bills, and show up to your job on time. What you can t do is be
left unsupervised in a kitchen.
Says the man who can t be trusted near an open flame.
Jaw clenched, he dumped the rest of the dishes in the sink and turned on the faucet. If you want to
keep me away from anything flammable, go grab some more firewood from the lean-to so we don t
have to cling to each other to keep warm.
I d rather freeze to death than touch you again.
You ve said that before. He didn t even look at her. Good thing I chopped a shitload of
firewood, huh?
Bri stomped back to the bedroom to look for her boots, because the alternative was to grab one of
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